Her blade clashed against his again, sparks flaring like fireflies in the night.
She pushed harder. Colder. Sharper. Driven by pride and fury both. She refused to be treated like this!
And Bruce's expression never changed.
He looked calm. Focused. Almost thoughtful.
As if he was studying her. As if he was learning from her. As if he was enjoying himself.
Jean refused to back down.
She would not lose. Not like this. Not on equal ground with the monster who dominated everything.
She attacked again, relentlessly, furiously—
And Bruce matched her. Step for step. Blow for blow.
Choosing, intentionally, to fight her as an equal.
For now..
WHOOSH-!!!!
Jean's double-ended sword spun in a sweeping arc of cold blue light, the air hissing as her strikes carved through it. She moved with disciplined ferocity, each slash crisp, each twist controlled, each step honed from countless hours of training. Her blade danced, an unrelenting storm of precision and cold intent.
